Young Love in Old - Fashioned America
by Sara K M
Summary: All Human AU. Standard sixteen year - old Esme meets Dr. Carlisle Cullen when she breaks her leg story. Only Carlisle is human as well. Set in the early twentieth century.
1. Chapter 1

YOUNG LOVE IN

OLD – FASHIONED AMERICA

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Twilight**_**.**

**OOOOOO means time change**

**XXXXXX means POV change**

**So, I've been lurking in the **_**Twilight **_**fandom for a few months, particularly with stories about Carlisle and Esme. And now, I've decided to write my own fic about them. It will be a multi –**

**chapter story. I'm really excited about this story, because it allows me to write about history **_**and**_** some of my favorite characters at the same time. (I was a history major in college.)**

**Also, a warring. This story contains a lot of religious themes. I don't think it's a problem to write this in a **_**Twilight**_** story, because it's canon that Carlisle is a Christian, anyway. But I know some people have a problem with reading a lot of stuff about Christian faith, so I figured I'd let you know in advance.**

Esme Platt woke up as the sun hit her face. She stretched for a minute before climbing out of bed. Then she proceeded to look for a dress in her trunk. After searching for a few minutes, she realized the only dresses she had available were her "girlhood" dresses. She should have done the laundry yesterday. Mother would have a fit. Esme could still hear her the last time Esme tried to wear one of these dresses. _"You're far too old to be showing your legs, Esme_. _It's unbecoming! And you _will _wear a corset everyday now, do you understand me? How do expect to find a husband if you don't dress properly?_" Esme shook her head. As if she had any desire to find a husband!

Esme shrugged and put on a green checkered calico dress that went just past her knees. Her mother would just have to accept this was all that was available today. She'd do the laundry later. Despite the problems that she expected to have with her mother, Esme smiled. This dress was _so much _more comfortable than her new ones. She giggled as she kicked her feet a few times and relished the ability to breathe normally. Then she came downstairs. Her mother was expecting her to help with breakfast, after all.

Even though she didn't get along with her mother, Esme liked making breakfast for her family. She just wished she could do it _by herself._ Her mother was mixing eggs in the kitchen, looking every bit the prim and proper farm wife she wanted Esme to be. "Hello, Mother," she greeted her, pulling out ingredients for flapjacks.

"Hello Esme," her mother replied, still concentrating on the eggs. Esme waited until her mother looked up and noticed her appearance. About thirty seconds later, she let loose. "Esme! What are you wearing! Haven't I told you? You're too old to go around dress like that! GO BACK UPSTAIRS AND PUT ON A RESPECTABLE DRESS AND A CORSET!" Her mother screamed her last words so loud; Esme hoped her younger sisters and brother didn't get up.

Still, Esme stood her ground as she looked at her mother in the eyes. "Mother, this is all I have to wear today."

Her mother's eyebrows rose even higher than they already were. "Why is _that_, Esme?" she asked. She began beating the eggs so rapidly Esme hoped they didn't end up all over the kitchen. Then her family wouldn't have any scrambled eggs to eat.

Esme sighed. "I didn't get the laundry done yesterday, mother," she admitted. She eyed the eggs as she said that, hoping to catch them, at least, before her mother threw the bowl all over the place in her anger.

Her mother slammed the bowl of eggs down on the counter _hard_ before Esme could catch them. Fortunately, only a little spilled. "I see," her mother replied. "What did you do yesterday instead?" she snapped.

Esme smiled despite herself as she remembered the day before. Her younger siblings had begged and pleaded with her to show them how they could turn flowers into paints. (Something an old art teacher had taught Esme to do a long time ago when she complained her family never had enough money for paints.) She'd finally given in, and they'd spent the entire afternoon painting. It was one of the best days she remembered having in a long time. So she raised her head high and told her mother, "I showed Camille, Linda, and Timmy how to paint with flowers. They loved it."

Her mother frowned. "Well, after breakfast is finished, I suggest you get right to the laundry, Esme," she said firmly. "Honestly, taking care of you siblings is good, but you have to take care of your other chores, too. No farmer is ever going to want to marry you if you can't take care of chores and dress respectably!"

Esme sighed as she returned to the flapjacks. She wished she could make her mother understand she didn't have much interest in getting married, much less to a farmer. She loved her family and their farm, but…sometimes she felt trapped here. She wanted to see beyond their farm or the farms down the road. She wanted to experience new things and see the cities. Sometimes she thought about becoming a teacher. One thing was for sure. The _last _man she was going to marry was another farmer, no matter how many of her older brother's friends her mother threw at her.

OOOOOOOOOO

The family finished their breakfast, which included bread with molasses as well as the flapjacks and scrambled eggs. Then Esme's father set off to work in the fields. The younger children began taking care of the dishes. Her mother walked off to the sitting room saying, "I think I'll do some sewing. After all, I can't very well mend clothes that haven't been washed yet, can I, Esme? Isn't it a shame when one person prevents another from doing _their _responsibility?"

"Yes, Mother," Esme replied. She knew her mother was going to have a fit about this. The air inside the house felt closed in, being near her mother. At least doing laundry meant going _outside _on a nice summer day. She picked up the big basin they used for clothes washing and filled it with water. Then she put it on the stove to heat up. "I'm going to wash the clothes outside. I'll be back when the water heats up," she explained.

Esme thought she heard her mother grumble, but she really didn't care. The laundry would get done either way, right? She picked up all the clothes and took them outside. Freedom.

As much freedom as Esme could get on the farm. At least her mother wasn't nearby to bother her anymore. Of course, eventually the water would heat up and she would have to retrieve it in order to wash the clothes. That meant going back inside. But that didn't matter right now. She could sort the laundry while she waited.

Esme wished she could paint today as well. She remembered the way the colors blended together to form a perfect picture of the sky. The sky was fascinating to her. She'd heard in some bigger cities they had buildings that almost reached the sky. Would she ever see them? Not if Esme's mother had her way that was for sure. When she was much younger, she climbed trees to try to reach the sky. Growing up with two older brothers, she learned how to climb trees easily. But Esme hadn't climbed a tree in a few years. She had too many responsibilities now. Besides, it would be almost impossible to climb a tree in an ankle – length gown and a corset.

Then Esme looked down at the dress she wore today. Just below the knee, instead of ankle – length. With no corset. She _could_ climb a tree today. Try to reach the sky again. Taste even more freedom. _No, Esme_ she told herself. _You have responsibilities, remember? _Besides, she was in enough trouble with Mother already. Still, the water wouldn't be hot enough to wash the clothes yet. And they were roughly sorted already. What if she climbed one, real quick? Just one last time. She'd probably never wear a short dress again, after all.

Esme ran as fast as she could to the edge of the farm where the trees grew and grabbed the lowest branch of her favorite tree. She could barely contain her excitement as she began. It felt just like old times, to feel the branches under her feet and the sky become closer and closer. Too late, she realized one of the branches she'd always stood on wasn't meant to take her current weight. She began to slip. Esme scrambled to grab one of the other branches. But she was slipping to fast. She landed on the ground, on top of her right leg.

"Ooowwww," she moaned in pain. "Goodness, that hurts!" What was she going to do now?

Her father came running up a few minutes later. "What happened, Esme?"

Esme sighed. Still, at least her father would be easier to deal with than Mother. "I was climbing a tree…and I didn't realize…ooooowwww….doesn't take my weight anymore….ooooowwww!"

Her father nodded. "Well, I hope you realize you aren't supposed to be climbing trees anymore?"

Esme nodded.

"Then let's get you back in the house. You're going to need a doctor. I think your leg is broken."

With that, he picked up Esme and carried her back into the house. Esme couldn't believe her stupidity. A broken leg? What if it had to be amputated? She could lose her leg just because she wanted to climb that darn tree one more time? Her mother was right. She had _no_ sense of responsibility. How would she help take care of her siblings with a broken leg?

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Carlisle Cullen watched Dr. Aro Parrino as he pulled another tooth out of the old man on the bed. "Ooowww!" the man screamed, loudly. Fortunately, there was only one other person in the hospital right now. The nurse. She would probably come in after Dr. Parrino was finished, to make the man more comfortable. It was a good – sized hospital, with _five_ patient rooms and two full – time doctors. They had all the modern equipment and medications here as well. It was a wonderful place for Carlisle to become the doctor he wanted to be.

Dr. Parrino ignored the man's screams and gestured for Carlisle to hand him his next tool. Just then, a man came running into the hospital out – of – breath. "I need a doctor to help my daughter!" he exclaimed. "Her leg is broken."

Dr. Parrino nodded. He looked around. "Dr. Roberts already left on _another _house call. You'll have to do it yourself, Cullen."

Carlisle took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied. He knew one of the reasons Dr. Parrino wanted him around was to take the house – calls, so Dr. Parrino could stay in the hospital with the state –

of – art – equipment and the nurses to take care of the patients' comfort. Still…Carlisle had never treated a broken leg before by himself. Could he do it? _Of course you can_, he said to himself. _You read about it in medical school. You watched Dr. Parrino do it before_. Besides, God would watch over him.

Carlisle picked up his medical bag and headed out the door. Then he climbed into the man's buggy. "It will be easier if we go together," he explained.

The man nodded as he picked up the reins. He was…rugged, you might say, with brown hair and a mustache. Carlisle assumed he was a farmer, with the way he was dressed and the dirt on his hands. He was probably so worried about his little girl's broken leg, he hadn't bothered to wash himself before going into town. Carlisle respected that. Before the man motioned for the horses to move, he paused for a second. "Are you actually _qualified _to treat my daughter's leg? Wouldn't it be better for that other, more experienced doctor to come with me?"

Carlisle sighed. There was a part of him that agreed with this man, but he couldn't admit that. He was hadn't been a doctor for very long, after all. He hadn't even gone to medical school in Germany, where all new doctors were recommended to go today. Still Carlisle _was_ a doctor. "As Dr. Parrino already said, the others are busy. Besides, God will take care of your daughter, regardless."

The man looked surprised at that comment. Still, at least he didn't argue with him. "Yes, of course. You're right." If Dr. Parrino had been here, he would have made another one of his comments that Carlisle relied too much on God and not enough on science. The older doctor thought it was ridiculous that Carlisle prayed for every patient he assisted. And he would pray for this patient before treating her leg as well.

Carlisle sighed as he rode on. He really shouldn't be so hard on Dr. Parrino, even though it was difficult to deal with his jabs against God. If it hadn't been for Aro Parrino , Carlisle would probably never have become a doctor at all.

_Carlisle's father was a Presbyterian minister and expected his only son to take the pulpit as well. He sent him to high school in Columbus, to prepare him to study theology. Imagine his surprise when Carlisle told his father he wanted to be a doctor, not a minister. "I'm fascinated by how the human body works, Father," he had tried to explain. "And if I'm a doctor, I'll still be a healer, just like you."_

_But his father hadn't agreed at all. "Healing the _soul _is what is important. The body dies. Soul is eternal. You _will _become a minister. I'll never pay money for a medical education. Worldly nonsense!"_

_Fortunately, Dr. Parrino had noticed Carlisle Cullen a promising student, and agreed to sponsor his education. Carlisle became a doctor, just like he wanted. Unfortunately, his father never forgave him. He hadn't seen or spoken to his father since he left for medical school. In some ways, Dr. Parrino became his father instead. But Dr. Parrino believed in science, not God. He thought people used God as crutch. He claimed believing in God made you weak. He actually embraced that strange new theory…what was it called? Darwinism, that believed people came from _animals.

_For a while Carlisle had actually considered Dr. Parrino's ideas. His own father had rejected him, after all. Would God really let something like that happen? And it was easy to see things Dr. Parrino's way, anyway, considering he was helping him learn medicine. Why not other things as well? _

_Then he met Eleazar, another student at the medical school. Eleazar had been courting a young woman named Carmen, but there had been some problems. But no matter _how bad _things got between them, Eleazar still prayed they would be able to marry someday. And when Eleazar finished medical school, Carlisle was the best man at the wedding. Since then, Carlisle _never _doubted the power of God or His love for his people._

He still didn't. And so, with God's help, he would fix this girl's broken leg.

**I know that in canon Carlisle's father was supposed to be an Anglican minister, which in the US would be Episcopalian. However, "purging the world of the unholy souls" (which Carlisle's father believed he was doing with vampire raids, etc.) was a Calvinist/Puritan practice, not an Anglican one. So I think Carlisle's father was one of those who **_**called **_**himself Anglican but actually practiced Calvinism. (That was actually quite common in sixth and seventeenth century England.) I've been told that Presbyterian is a modern version of Calvinism, so that's what I'm running with.**

**The name "Parrino" means "godfather" in Italian. Quite fitting for Aro on several levels, don't you think? **

**I realize this is kind of presumptuous on my part, considering I don't give too many reviews in this fandom myself. But I would like some reviews, please. Let me know what you like about the story and what you don't like, and what works and what I need to work **_**on. **_**Especially considering I don't have a beta. I will tell you, if you give me a review, **_**I will respond**_**. It doesn't matter if you are a registered user or a guest/anonymous. So keep that in mind.**

**Also, speaking of betas, I **_**would**_** like to have for this story, if possible. Give me a PM if you are interested. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Twilight**_**.**

**Thank you to those that have given me follows and favorites. A special thank you to my reviewer. A response will be at the end of the chapter.**

**Also, I'm sorry I didn't mention this in the last chapter, but I'm planning on updating this story on Wednesdays. **

The man's buggy passed several farms, some which were abandoned and some which were still operational. Finally, they turned onto a rather short driveway (only about seventy – five feet) with a two story white house at the end. A young girl (she looked to be about six or seven), ran up to the buggy. Obviously, she wasn't the girl who had been hurt. "Father!" the girl exclaimed. "Esme's leg is hurt real bad! Will you make her better?" The girl was obviously at the age where she believed a father could fix _any_ problem. Carlisle sighed as he remembered a time when he believed his father could (and _would_) fix anything as well. Now he knew only his heavenly father could do so.

The girl's father sighed as he guided the horses to the barn, situated at the side of the house. It was a small barn for a farm, but it was big enough for both horses, anyway. "I brought a doctor, Linda," the man told the girl. He pointed to Carlisle. "He will fix Esme's leg."

Linda looked at Carlisle for a minute or two. Carlisle hoped he would measure up to her standards. Then she looked back at her father. "Okay, Father," she told him. Then she ran back into the house.

After stabling the horses, the man turned to Carlisle. "I'm sorry. I don't think I ever properly introduced myself. George Platt." He held out his hand.

Carlisle smiled. "Dr. Cullen," he replied, shaking his hand. "It's no problem. You are worried about your daughter." He picked up his medical bag.

Mr. Platt nodded. "Well, let's go in," he commented nervously as he pointed to the house.

Carlisle nodded, trying not to show his nervousness as well. _God is in charge_, he reminded himself. _He wants me to do this._ So he went up the pathway to the house and stepped inside. There was a small sitting room in the front where everyone seemed to be congregated. It consisted of a rocking chair, an easy chair, and a round rug on in the center of the floor. In the center of the room was a deep blue couch with a young woman lying on it with her leg propped up. There were three other children talking to her.

One of them seemed to be trying to make the injured girl laugh. "What's black and white and red all over?...A newspaper!"

The younger girl, Linda was her name? Was simply looking at her sister, her father, and Carlisle with a concerned look on her face.

The boy was trying to cuddle up to the girl on the couch, and the mother seemed to be telling him to "Leave Esme alone."

"This is the doctor," Margaret," Mr. Platt announced, Carlisle assumed to his wife.

The woman nodded. "Good," she replied, a little stiffly. Carlisle wondered why she didn't appear more concerned about her daughter.

Daughter. Somehow when Mr. Platt had told him his daughter's leg was broken, he expected to see a child. Someone more like Linda's age, or perhaps the other one, telling jokes. The young woman on the bed was much older than that. And she had the most beautiful shade of hair. He'd never seen such an unusual shade of brown hair. He wondered what it would feel like to touch. _Enough_, he told himself. _You're not here to study her hair; you're here to fix her leg._

"Yes," he told the group of people in the room. "I'm the doctor. Before I begin, I will say a prayer that her leg will be healed as well, if that's okay." Actually he'd say it even if it wasn't okay. He'd just do it silently. Praying over his patients was a must for him. Especially considering this was the first broken leg he'd treated.

"Sure," said the young woman on the couch, speaking for the first time. Her voice was nice, too.

The woman, Mrs. Platt, looked at him strangely. "You can't heal her on your own, young man? I thought you were quite young for a doctor. Maybe we should get someone who trusts _themselves _to treat Esme's broken leg."

Carlisle shook his head at the woman. "Every doctor heals with the help of God, ma'am, whether they are willing to recognize it or not." Yes, even Dr. Parrino healed with God's help. "But by asking for God's help, I believe it will help your daughter even _more_. Please."

Mr. Platt shrugged. "I don't see the harm in a prayer, Margaret."

So Carlisle looked up to the heavens and asked out loud, "_Dear heavenly Father, we know you can do all things. So we ask that this young woman's leg be healed, with my help. Amen."_

"Amen," the Platts echoed, a little uncertainly.

Then Carlisle picked up his bag and finally approached the young woman on the couch. She was wearing a green checkered dress that looked a little short on her. Still, it helped him see her leg better, so that was a good thing. He examined her leg visually first, checking for bruises or awkward positions. There seemed to be a bruise on the side of her knee. "Can someone get me some ice?" he asked the others. "Her leg is bruised as well."

Mrs. Platt sighed but went to the ice box and chipped off a piece. She wrapped it in a cloth and handed it to Carlisle.

"Put this on your knee," he instructed the young woman on the couch as he handed her the ice. Then he began feeling her leg gently, starting with the ankle and working his way up. He would have preferred to do this with an X - Ray; it was the preferred method for looking for broken bones today. But since there was no X - Ray available here, he'd have to settle for feeling for breaks. _You can do this, _he told himself. _God is with you. _"You're going to have to tell me where it hurts, okay?" he told her softly, looking into her eyes for the first time. They were a lovely soft brown. And her hair wasn't just that odd shade of brown. It had red highlights as well. They made her hair even more beautiful than it was from a distance. _Her leg, remember. Her leg._

She nodded, without saying anything.

About half way up her calf, she let out a soft yelp. It actually sounded more like a squeak. She was obviously trying to hide the pain, although she couldn't conceal it completely. "Don't try to hide the pain," he told her shaking his head. "I can't treat you unless I know where it's broken."

She nodded again.

"I think I'll get you some whiskey for the pain, Esme," said Mr. Platt in the background.

Carlisle looked up at everyone else, surprised. For some reason, he'd forgotten there were all there. But he shook his head as Mr. Platt rummaged around for whiskey in the kitchen. "No, I have some morphine in my bag. It will be better for her if she takes that." In medical school, they were warned to stay away from using alcohol as a pain reliever whenever possible. A lot of people abused it, after all.

He pulled out a package of powder and told them to mix it with a cup of water. Mrs. Platt did so quickly and handed it to her daughter. She drank it slowly.

As Carlisle began gathering the things he needed to set her leg, Mr. Platt sighed. "I'm sorry Esme, but I need to be heading back to the fields."

She nodded.

"I think I'll finish the laundry. _Someone's_ got to take care of it, after all," Mrs. Platt commented, taking a bucket of water off the stove and carrying it outside.

They were alone. Well, minus the younger kids, who seemed quite interested in watching.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Esme had never been more embarrassed than when the young, handsome doctor walked into their house. Her leg was already killing her, despite Camille's attempt to distract her with jokes. Why did she have to be embarrassed as well? Where did this young doctor come from, anyway? All the doctors she'd seen in the past had been older; at least her father's age. Now she was in the presence of this man with the most perfect shade of blond hair, the most wonderful voice, and best of all, he was clean. All the young farmers her mother tried to interest in her all had dirt in their nails. This man's hands were immaculate. But…Esme was far from perfect. She was wearing a child's dress, for goodness sakes! Why didn't she listen to her mother and stop wearing girl's dresses?

Esme was _so _embarrassed, in fact, that she barely said a word since the doctor had arrived. Even when the doctor told her to tell him where her leg was hurting, she tried in vain keep quiet.

But after her parents' left the house, the doctor asked, "So how did you break your leg, anyway?" He had the most wonderful smile. A smile that would disappear as soon as he realized what an idiot Esme had been when she climbed the tree. Of course that tree wasn't meant to take her weight anymore! Or maybe his smile would stay because he'd be laughing at her. She didn't know which one was worse. So Esme shook her head, indicating she didn't want to talk about it.

But the doctor sighed. "I'm trying to help you by getting you to keep your mind off your pain until the medication takes effect. Besides, I should know how the injury occurred. It can effect treatment. Talk to me, please."

Esme sighed and looked at the couch. "I was climbing a tree," she mumbled. At least if she wasn't looking _at_ him, she wouldn't have to see his smile disappear. "I used to climb that tree a lot, when I was my sisters' age. But…I guess I'm too big to climb trees now. The tree couldn't take my weight."

"I see," the doctor replied. "How high did you fall?"

Esme sighed. "About ten feet," she admitted to the couch.

"Okay," he replied.

He didn't sound that upset with her or seem to think she was silly for climbing a tree when she was _much_ too old to do so. So Esme continued, "All I've been hearing from my mother is how to be a 'proper young lady.' I'm supposed to help her with the chores, and wear certain clothes, and meet all kinds of eligible young farmers. I just…it feels like she's suffocating me sometimes, you know? I want to see more of the world. When I climbed trees when I was younger, it made me feel free. I just…wanted to feel that again." Esme never realized how much she needed to share her thoughts with someone else. She felt better, now that she explained it to another person.

"I understand," the doctor told her, surprising her.

How could he understand? He was a doctor! He lived in the city. He was able to see and go to places Esme only dreamed about. "I think you've seen more of the world than I have," she told him out loud.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied. "But I mean about parents, trying to force you to do what _they _want you to do. My father is a minister you see." Well, that explained the doctor's preoccupation with God and prayer. "And he wanted me to be a minister, too, even though I was more interested in medicine. The more he insisted I become a minister, the more I became interested in becoming a doctor."

At that Esme finally turned around and faced the doctor. "Really?"

The doctor nodded. "Really."

"Thank you, doctor," Esme said to him sincerely. She'd apparently picked a good person to talk to. Not only did he not make fun of her, he actually understood her point – of – view, because he'd experienced a little of it himself.

The doctor smiled at her, looking into her eyes. His were beautiful color of blue. "It's Carlisle," he told her.

"What?" Esme asked not really understanding.

"My _name_," he explained. "It's Carlisle Cullen. I'd like you to call me by my first name."

"Oh," Esme replied, happily. "Then you should call me Esme."

"Thank you," he replied, sounding relieved.

Then suddenly she began giggling. "Carleel," she repeated over and over. "That sounds funny. "Or maybe Esmooch. That would be funny, too."

For some reason, Carlisle shook his head at her. "I think the morphine has taken effect. I'll start setting your leg now."

As he worked on her leg, Esme continued to think of funny combinations of their names.

"Why are you acting so weird, Esme?" Linda asked at one point. "You're never this silly."

"I think she's just trying to distract herself from the pain," Camille replied. She sounded pleased.

But Esme wasn't really in pain at all. And everything just felt sillier and sillier as the doctor continued to work on her leg.

Then, all at once, she didn't feel silly. She felt sick. And she vomited all over Carlisle before she could even ask her siblings to get her a bucket. Esme buried her face in her hands, humiliated.

"Don't worry, Esme," the doctor told her. "It's a side effect of the morphine. I knew it might happen."

But Esme kept her face in her hands. She was just starting to be comfortable around the doctor. (Although some of that may have been the morphine as well.) But now…he was covered in her bodily fluids! How could she ever move on from this?"

"I'll go get some of father's clothes," Camille offered. "They probably won't look as nice, but at least they'll be clean. He won't mind, under the circumstances."

The doctor nodded. "Thank you."

Camille returned in a few seconds, and the doctor changed in the next room. When he came back, he looked like a strange mix of her father and the young, handsome doctor she'd gotten to know. It was…unsettling, to say the least. Not to mention it was a constant reminder of her mistake. But he finished setting her leg, anyway. After her leg was set, the doctor explained that Esme was to stay off it for six weeks. Then someone would return to make sure she had recovered properly.

At this point, Esme couldn't wait for him to leave. She couldn't bare this humiliation anymore. But first, the doctor had to receive a payment from her father. So Camille went out to retrieve her father, and her father handed the doctor a check. "Don't worry about the clothes," her father added. "You can come back for them later." Great, so Esme would have to deal with the humiliation of having his clothes around to remind her of her mistake. Was there a worse punishment than this?

**Ellie: Thank you for your review. Glad you like the beginning of the story, and that you appreciated the author's note as well. I like to do that for parts of a story that it seems obvious would be confusing.**

**I'd really love it if I got more reviews as well, particularly considering I don't have a beta. Let me know what works and what doesn't on this story, please.**

**And if any of you are interested in betaing this story, please give me a PM. Thank you.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**Twilight**_**.**

Carlisle couldn't believe he'd been so stupid when he gave Esme the morphine. He _knew _that medication could cause vomiting. He'd studied side effects to medication extensively in medical school. So why didn't he think to warn the young woman before he gave it to her? Or better yet, provide a bucket for her to vomit in if she needed to? But he didn't think, and now he was stuck wearing clothes that belonged to someone else as he returned to Columbus. Worse than that, he'd embarrassed Esme. Carlisle's first attempt at fixing a broken leg hadn't gone well at all.

Hopefully her leg would still heal properly. It would be a shame for such a lovely – no, beautiful he admitted – young woman to lose her leg. "Please monitor your daughter's leg. If you notice it looks a greenish color, or she develops a fever, inform us right away, Mr. Platt," he told her father as he drove Carlisle back into the city.

"Yes, I understand," Mr. Platt replied.

"Don't worry about the clothes," Mr. Platt said again as he parked in front of the hospital after they returned to Columbus. "We can trade them at a later date."

"Thank you, sir," Carlisle replied as he got out of the buggy.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Dr. Parrino asked Carlisle as he entered the hospital again. Then he paused for a second. "Oh, hello, Cullen. I didn't recognize you at first. Why are you dressed like a farmer?"

Carlisle sighed. "Because I made a mistake. I gave the patient some morphine for the pain while I set her leg. But I didn't think about the vomiting, so…she made a bit of a mess. I wish I'd provided a place for her to vomit if she needed to in advance."

Dr. Parrino shrugged. "Vomiting and other fluids is an unfortunate part of being a doctor, Cullen. You should get used to that."

Carlisle shrugged. "That's not really what's bothering me. I mean, it was unpleasant, but the family was nice enough to provide me with a change of clothes. I just…wish I could have made it easier for her…The patient, I mean."

Dr. Parrino nodded. "Well, next time you give someone morphine, you can remember this incident and learn from it."

Carlisle nodded. "I suppose you're right." For all Dr. Parrino made fun of Carlisle's faith, times like this showed Carlisle why he was such a good doctor. _Learn from your mistakes_ is what Dr. Parrino was telling him. It was good advice.

OOOOOOOOOOO

So Carlisle kept that advice as he assisted Dr. Parrino with his patients and even treated a few of his own patients for the next month and a half. They saw a few patients with broken limbs from the new factories opening in the city, and Carlisle made sure there _was_ always a bucket nearby.

Carlisle also prayed that Esme's leg would recover fully. Not only was she beautiful, but she had such a spirit! He remembered how she told him she'd like to see outside the farm someday. He'd hate to have her limited because her leg needed to be amputated.

He was glad she'd told him he could call her Esme. He'd learned her name early in his visit, because the rest of her family kept referring to her by her given name. But he couldn't bring himself to refer to her as "Esme," at first. It was too familiar. And yet, he didn't want to call her "Miss Platt," either, for some reason. _It was too formal,_ he told himself. _You wanted to be able to call that beautiful young woman by her first name as soon as you saw her._ Nah, that was ridiculous. He wasn't _that_ attached to Esme as soon as he saw her.

As Carlisle walked home from church on afternoon, his mind was on Esme again. _Lord,_ _please let her leg heal properly, _he prayed, as always. Then he turned the corner and saw a sign for a new establishment. "Finishing School: A Proper Education for Young Ladies." It looked like it was being set up about a block from the church he attended. That was kind of interesting.

Then Carlisle's mind returned to Esme. He hoped he would look at her leg in a couple of weeks. He had assumed he would, after all he was supposed to return Mr. Platt's clothes, and he would like his back as well. Recently, he'd picked up Mr. Platt's clothes from the cleaning service, although he'd had a _troublesome _conversation with the owner.

"_I'm here to pick up a brown pair of trousers and shirt," he'd told the man. "Name's Cullen."_

_The man's eyebrows rose, but he nodded. He disappeared into the back for a few minutes. "Here we are. I must say my wife and I were surprised you brought in clothes fit for a commoner. Usually you dress like a proper doctor."_

_Carlisle sighed. It was true; doctors were expected to dress professionally and quite differently from the clothes Mr. Platt wore. But he didn't like the other man's attitude._ _Like he was somehow _better_ than Mr. Platt or Esme or the rest of their family._ _"I believe I can dress how I please, sir," he told the other man firmly as he handed the man his fee. No need to tell him the clothes didn't belong to Carlisle. _

_The other man nodded as he took the money. _"_Of course," he replied cheerfully. "I only meant that I'd never seen you wear clothes like _that_…"_

Carlisle was tempted to wear Mr. Platt's clothes again, just to show people they _weren't_ beneath him, but that would be petty. And Carlisle had never been one for pettiness. Besides, Mr. Platt would need his clothes _clean,_ and if Carlisle continued to wear them, they might not be. Still, the idea that people expected him to act differently, _like a rich man, _he admitted to himself, just because he was a doctor, bothered him. After all, Carlisle certainly hadn't grown up rich, as the son of a minister. And he'd become a doctor to help others, not to wear fancy clothes.

Speaking of helping others, he still hoped he would see Esme again soon. It might very well happen. Dr. Parrino and Dr. Roberts _did _like the doctor who did the original house – call to do the follow – up, since they were more acquainted with the case. But sometimes, that wasn't possible. You never knew when a doctor would be _already_ busy with another patient. Just last week, Carlisle was forced to treat one of Dr. Roberts' patients, who suffered from a chronic disease with no real treatment: diabetes. But Carlisle _really _hoped he would see Esme again. She was special, partly because she was the first patient he'd treated for a broken leg. But also because she had been so nice to talk to. _And beautiful_, he added to himself.

XXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOO

Esme's older brothers, Junior and Alan came over for dinner the night she broke her leg. They ordinarily worked as laborers for several different farms (including her father's). So they had dinner at several different homes during the week. But Father told them about her injury, and her brothers wanted to make sure Esme was alright.

"So how's your leg?" Alan asked as he gave Esme a hug when he came in. "Does it hurt a lot? It's not getting infected, is it?" he asked as he glanced at her broken leg. "I've heard of guys who lost their leg when it gets infected."

Esme shrugged. "No, it doesn't hurt very much right now, Alan. The doctor that treated it…he did pretty good. Better than good, actually." As humiliating as it was to remember the doctor, Esme admitted he _was_ very good at what he did. She was sure her leg would heal wonderfully because he'd treated her.

"I'm glad to hear that Esme, but you're a little too old to be climbing trees," Junior sighed as he sat down.

Esme sighed. She certainly learned _that_ lesson today. "Yes, I think I am," she agreed.

Mother sighed as she pulled the pork chops out of the oven. "I'm glad you realize that _now_, Esme. Maybe you'll behave more responsibly after this. Of course, it's still going to be quite a challenge for me, managing this household while you're off your feet."

Esme looked right back at her. "I _know_, mother." As if her mother would ever let Esme forget about that. "But there are things I can do sitting down. I can mix dough for bread. I can mend and fold clothes. I'm sure we'll work something out."

Mother shook her head. "I certainly hope so," she replied as she pulled out a can of green beans.

"Don't forget I'm here to help you and Esme, Mother!" Camille added, eagerly. She always wanted to make peace between Esme and their mother, as she loved them both. Of course, Esme loved her mother, too. It just wasn't easy as easy to get along with her as it was the rest of their family.

"Of course," Mother replied, smiling at Camille. "I appreciate that." She served the family the pork chops, the green beans, and milk for dinner. "So how are the bills coming?" she asked as she sat down as well.

Mother and Father were always worried about bills and money; Esme knew that. Her father was struggling to hold onto the farm at a time when many were being abandoned. She hoped her medical bill didn't set them back too much. Father shrugged. "We're doing okay, Margaret. Although we'd be doing better if…" Father looked at her two older brothers, his statement clear. Father wanted her brothers to come back to their farm on a permanent basis. That way, he could afford to buy more land and crops. But Esme's brothers wanted to earn enough money to buy their _own_ farms someday. It was a source of tension between them and was one of the reasons why they didn't come for dinner often.

Junior sighed. "Father, I _know _how you feel. And I might come back here, someday. But for now…it's important to me as a man to try to make it on my own."

"Same here," Alan added.

"Do I havfta ate these?" Timmy asked, holding his green beans in the air. "They're yucky!"

Everyone chuckled, grateful that Timmy had relieved some of the tension at the table.

Esme smiled at her brother. "Do you see how big and strong Father is?" she asked. "That's because he ate _all_ his green beans when he was young. Don't you want to be like him?"

Timmy sighed and nodded.

Eventually, they all finished dinner, and her brothers left the house. "Let us know if your leg gets worse, Esme. Maybe we can take you to one of those specialists in Chicago. Then you might not need it amputated."

Esme doubted her family could afford such an expense. But it didn't matter because her leg _would_ be fine_._ "My leg is fine. And it will stay that way. I don't care if he wasn't a specialist. The man who treated me was a wonderful doctor, and I don't think I could find a better one if I tried."

"Oh," replied Alan. "I see."

"If that's what you believe, Esme," Junior added. They were obviously not sure what to make of her outburst. After all, they'd only been trying to help.

Esme sighed. "Sorry," she called out. "I shouldn't have been so short. I don't know why I said that…"

Father nodded at her apology after they left. "I'm glad you apologized to them, Esme," Mother added. "A young lady shouldn't speak out like that."

Esme looked at the floor. She really had no idea why she'd spoken that way to her brother herself. But she'd thought the doctor had done a marvelous job taking care of her. He'd listened to her, he took her seriously, and her leg looked like it was set fine. He'd also taken away her pain, although Esme would rather not think about what happened as a result of _that_. Her brain still burned in humiliation as she remembered her vomit covering him. But the point was Esme had never met a better doctor than the one who had treated her today.

OOOOOOOOO

Esme was able to do _some_ chores, just as she promised her mother she would. She mixed and pounded bread dough. She mended clothes and sewed new ones. And she folded clothes as well. As she folded the clothes the next week, she noticed the outfit that belonged to the doctor in the basket.

She picked them up and sniffed them for a second. At least they didn't smell like vomit anymore. But that didn't change the fact that the clothes _wouldn't_ be here if she hadn't made such a horrible mistake. Looking at them, Esme was transported back to that day. The doctor was being _so _nice to her. He listened to her and took her seriously. He'd even told her she could call him by his first name. And then Esme ruined it by vomiting all over him. She refused to call him by his first name even in her head now. She wouldn't even call him by his title and his last name. Esme only thought of him as "the doctor." It was the best way to not become attached to him.

_Attached _to him. Esme paused as she folded his clothes. What _was_ she thinking? Why would she be attached to the doctor, anyway? Okay, so the doctor had been handsome. And a good listener. But that didn't mean anything, did it? She still had _no desire _to be courted by anyone, much less marry anyone, no matter what her mother said. So the doctor didn't matter, did he?

Esme looked at his clean – cut, professional – looking clothes again. Besides, the doctor would _never_ be interested in her. She was the daughter of a farmer, no matter how much Esme wished to change her status. Doctors liked to court "women of leisure" who understood how to behave in the professional world. Many of them also liked to marry into rich families to help their businesses, as well. And he probably thought Esme was too young, anyway. _Well_ Esme thought to herself, _that settles _that._ The doctor doesn't matter at all._

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme continued calling Dr. Cullen "the doctor" in her head, to show her disinterest and lack of attachment to him in the next few weeks. Meanwhile, her mother was impressed with Esme's commitment to wearing ankle – length dresses and corsets from now on. "I guess there are _some_ benefits to you breaking your leg, Esme," her mother commented as she swept the floor. "You've finally realized you are a young lady now."

Esme nodded as she mended her father's shirt. "Yes, Mother." Esme may have put the doctor out of her mind as a potential suitor, but she hadn't forgotten how embarrassed she felt, dressed like a child in front of _him_. She'd never dress like that again!

Soon, the doctor would be returning to check on her leg, to make sure it was completely healed. Esme would dress normally and would be civil to him. But that was all.

**So what did you think of that? I'm sorry that it didn't flow as well as it should have. I had a lot of time jumps in this chapter, and I couldn't figure out how to make it sound as well as it could because of that. (Yet another reason why I'd really like to have a beta for this story.)**

**Give me a PM if you're interested in betaing, please. I will remind you that betaing **_**is**_** extra work (so I understand some of you don't have the time for it). But you also get to see the new chapters sooner than anyone else. (In this case, probably about four days earlier.) Does that tempt any of you?**

**But even if you are not able to beta, please give me a review. Tell me what you liked about it and what you didn't like. If you aren't comfortable with giving or receiving a response publically, you can also give me a PM.**

**Thank you for those who have followed and favorited this story, particularly those who seem to be usually interested in **_**other **_**Twilight couples. That's very flattering to me, that you think **_**my **_**Carlisle and Esme are worth reading.**

**And here are some responses.**

**Nahla Jala: I think you did a **_**great **_**job responding to me in English. (Certainly better than **_**I**_** would do responding in German!) I'm glad you appreciate my effort to make this historically accurate, and that it "felt" like it was really set in that time period. Like I said in my author's notes, I was a history major, so writing history in fanfiction is fun for me (and it's important for me to get the details right). I also understand you're hesitation about Human AUs in **_**Twilight**_**. Well I enjoy some of them, there are a lot that are so far away from the characters we know, you don't even recognize them. I'm glad you think my Carlisle and Esme are still recognizable.**

**Ellie: Thank you again. I'm glad you liked the first meeting. It was fun for me to write.**

**PrincessGBRS: Thank you. I hope you like the direction I take this. (And I'm glad you love Jesus, too, and **_**not**_** just because you'll enjoy the story more.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Twilight_.**

Late one morning, Dr. Parrino was looking at their appointment books while Dr. Roberts examined a pregnant woman. "Looks like you should check out that patient with the broken leg today, Cullen. It's been about six weeks," Dr. Parrino commented.

"Really?" Carlisle replied, his eyes lighting up. He would be able to see Esme today!

"Yes," Dr. Parrino confirmed. "She was _your_ patient, wasn't she?"

"Yes, sir," Carlisle said eagerly. He was already on his way out the door.

"Do you remember the way?" Dr. Parrino called out.

"Yes," Carlisle called back. The Platt farm wasn't that hard to remember, considering it was one of the bigger farms in this area. Besides, he would _never_ want to forget the place where Esme lived.

Before he left, he made sure to pick up Mr. Platt's clothes as well. Then he picked up the hospital buggy and headed to the country. Despite his excitement, Carlisle was a little nervous as well. What if Esme's leg hadn't healed right? Mr. Platt hadn't informed them of any infection, so Esme _should_ be fine. But what if she wasn't? What if that spirited young woman who climbed trees for fun ended up in a wheelchair for the rest of her life? _God, please let her leg be healed_, he prayed silently again.

Finally, Carlisle arrived at the farm that he knew belonged to the Platt's. After stabling the horses, he picked up Mr. Platt's clothes and went in the house. He found Esme sitting on the couch again, with her leg propped up. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. She was holding what looked to be an old book and a pencil in her hand. One of her sister's was sitting next to her, trying to stay incredibly still. The younger sister played with a doll in the corner. Her younger brother ran around the room. "Will you do me next, Esme?" he pleaded.

Mrs. Platt sighed from the kitchen. She appeared to be pounding bread dough. "I don't know, Timmy. Esme has other things to do besides draw all day."

Carlisle finally decided to make his presence know. "Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen. I'm here to make sure Esme's leg is healed properly."

"Good," Mrs. Platt responded. "As soon as her leg is healed, she can go back to her normal work."

"But I want her to finish my drawing first!"

Esme put the pencil and book aside. "Camille, the doctor needs to look at my leg now. After he's done, I'll try to finish your drawing, but Mother is correct, I'll have other work to do as well. I won't forget it, though. I promise," she told her sister as she gave her a small hug. Carlisle watched from the background. She was so good with her siblings. He'd noticed that the last time he'd been here as well. Not that it was surprising as the oldest girl in the family, he supposed. But it was sweet to watch. Esme was so sweet.

"Okay," Camille agreed. She moved out of the way so Carlisle could sit next to Esme. He noticed she was wearing a longer dress this time. It would make looking at her leg harder, but Carlisle had to admit, the ankle – length purple dress was becoming on her. It looked as if she might be wearing a corset, too, although he couldn't be sure.

"Hello, Esme," Carlisle finally greeted her. "Can you lift up your dress a little for me to see your leg?"

"Of course, Doctor," Esme replied, slowly lifting her leg.

Carlisle examined her leg carefully, but he wondered why she was being so formal. Hadn't he told her she could call him Carlisle? If she didn't want to do that, the least she could do was call him, "Dr. Cullen." Was she not as happy to see him as he was to see her? "Has your leg been bothering you?"

Esme shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle, doctor. I think it's fine now." Her voice was polite, but it lacked warmth. It hurt to hear her talk to him like that. Had he done something wrong? He must have.

Carlisle nodded. "It appears to be. I'm sorry couldn't have done better for you, though."

Esme suddenly looked confused. "Done better? How is that possible? My leg is completely healed, just like you said. I didn't get any infections, so I didn't lose my leg. I think I'll even be able to walk again. And when you were here last time, you not only healed me, you _listened _to me. I think that makes you the best doctor I've ever met."

Carlisle sighed with relief. "Thank you for saying that. It's just…you were talking so formally, which was quite different from the way we parted last time. I thought I'd offended you somehow."

Esme shrugged. "No, you didn't."

Carlisle smiled at her. "I'm happy to hear that. Speaking of which, I'm _sorry_ about what happened with the morphine. I brought your father his clothes back, though. They're right here."

"I'll get your clothes for you, too," Camille announced, leaving the room for a second. What was it about Esme that made him forget anyone else was in the room when he was talking to her?

Meanwhile, Esme looked horrified that he brought up the morphine. "Why are _you_ sorry? I was the one who vomited all over you!"

Carlisle sighed. "Yes, but it was still my fault. I _knew_ morphine could cause vomiting, and I didn't warn you about that. I should have told you about the side effects. I should have provided you with a bucket in case you needed it. I learned my lesson, though. Every time I give a patient morphine now, I show them the bucket!"

Esme gave a little smile at that, and Camille laughed as she handed him his clothes. "You're funny, doctor," she told him.

Carlisle shrugged. He'd never considered himself a funny man, but it was nice that he'd made the girl laugh. Better yet, he'd made Esme smile.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

XXXXXXXXXXX

Esme had been trying not to get too close to the doctor. But…_Dr. Cullen_…was making that harder than she'd expected. First, he'd looked hurt when she'd only called him "doctor." Then he actually believed he could have done better when he treated her. Dr. Cullen had even taken responsibility for her vomiting himself. And _then_ he said something to make her sister laugh. How was Esme supposed to keep her distance from a man like that?

"I'm fixing my doll's leg, Esme," Linda called from the background. "Just like the nice doctor fixed yours." Esme turned around to see Linda holding her doll's leg up.

"That's great," Esme told her sister, because she knew that's what Linda wanted to hear. "I'm sure you'll fix hers as well as Dr. Cullen fixed mine." She turned back around in time to see the doctor's expression that she'd called him "Dr. Cullen." He looked surprised, but reasonably happy. Esme had to admit, she liked to see him happy.

As Dr. Cullen continued to check her leg, his eyes seem to fall on the drawing Esme had been doing of Camille. Esme wished she could snatch it away first; no one had ever seen her drawings except her family. But he'd obviously already seen it. She tried to prepare herself for his reaction. What if he thought it was silly?

Dr. Cullen picked it up and seemed to compare Camille from the drawing. He was going to tell her they looked nothing alike, wasn't he? Why hadn't she hidden that drawing when he came in? Sure, her family told her she drew well, but that was different. Family was _supposed_ to say that. "It looks _exactly _like your sister," he finally said, sounding impressed. "You made her look very pretty."

"Really?" Esme asked, looking him in the eyes this time.

"Really," Dr. Cullen confirmed, looking back at her.

"Esme's always had a talent for drawing," Mrs. Platt commented from the background, still pounding the bread. "Unfortunately, _sometimes_ she spends more time on that than on chores."

Esme sighed. Did her mother have to bring _that _up when they had company? She tried her best to be responsible!

"Have you ever taken lessons for drawing?" Dr. Cullen asked.

Esme chuckled. "No. I'd like to, but classes like that cost more money than my family can afford. Besides, I'm needed _here_. To help my family with chores, as my mother just said."

"It's nice to hear you understand that, Esme," her mother called from the background again.

Then he turned the book she'd been using around. _Shakespeare's Sonnets._ "You like poetry?"

Esme shrugged. "Sometimes. When I have the time to read them on the farm."

Dr. Cullen nodded, looking a little nervous. What did _he_ have to be nervous about? "There's…an advanced school for girls…being set up in Columbus. It sounds like you might enjoy a place like that. You probably wouldn't consider attending…" His voice trailed off.

Esme's eyes lit up, despite herself. Would she _ever_! Leave the farm to go to school in the city? She could practically _taste_ the freedom that would offer. And would a school like that give her more chances to draw? To read? Probably. The city wasn't even that far from home, so she could still come home for holidays. But one look at her mother and her siblings and Esme knew it could never be. They couldn't afford it. And her mother needed her here. "I'd like to, but I don't think I'd be able to," she told Dr. Cullen. "But thank you for trying to find a way for me to go to school. That's more than anyone else has done."

Seriously, what wouldn't this man do to try to help her? He healed her, he took away her pain (as much as she'd rather not think of the consequence of that), he listened to her, and he tried to help free her from the farm and further her education at the same was a wonderful doctor and a wonderful man.

"But getting back to your leg," Dr. Cullen continued, reminding her why he was _really _there. "I think you should be able to walk on it now."

Esme nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen."

The doctor got up and walked about two feet from the coach. "Why don't you try walking to me?"

Esme shrugged. It didn't sound that hard. Honestly, _he _did say she'd be able to walk now, right? So why was he making such a big deal about walking such a short distance? She pulled her leg down from the couch and started to stand up. "Ouch!" she screamed, doubling over in pain. "I thought you said I'd be able to walk again!" She sat back on the couch again.

Dr. Cullen sighed from where he was standing. "You _can_ walk, Esme. But your leg is going to be sore because you haven't used it for so long. That's why it hurts to put your weight on it. But you need to get used to walking again, or it will get worse. Try walking to me. It's not that far." He held out his hands for her.

Esme nodded and took a deep breath. Well, if Dr. Cullen said she could walk, she should be able to do it. He was, after all, the best doctor she'd ever met. And…walking toward him couldn't be that bad, could it? She started to stand up again, and the pain hit. But since she was expecting it, she forced herself to move past it and stood up fully. "Ouch!" she exclaimed again, despite herself.

She looked at the distance between her and Dr. Cullen, which suddenly seemed so far. But the doctor looked at her firmly. "You _can_ do this, Esme," he told her firmly.

So Esme took a step forward, muttering "ouch," as she did so. And another, muttering "ouch" again. But eventually she got her reward. She'd walked _right_ into Dr. Cullen's arms. "I did it!" she exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I told you could," he replied. "Continue practicing your walking, and your leg will be fine."

"Thanks to you, Dr. Cullen," Esme smiled at him. He'd given her the freedom to walk again.

Dr. Cullen shook his head as he guided her back to the couch. "No. Thanks to God. He gave me the tools to heal you, but God did the work, Esme. _Praise to God_ you can walk!"

Esme shrugged. "Okay, praise to God, then." It was a little strange when he started talking about God like that. It wasn't as if she had anything _against _the Lord. She and her family attended Church every Sunday, just like almost everyone else in the area. They considered themselves Christians. But…they weren't in the habit of talking or thinking about God outside of church. Dr. Cullen seemed to bring up God all the time.

Dr. Cullen sighed. "Well, since you're all healed up and have proved you can walk, I should be leaving now."

Esme tried not to sound too disappointed. "You're leaving?"

He nodded. "I have to get back to the hospital in Columbus. But it was a pleasure to see you again," he smiled as he said that, making her believe her really meant it.

Esme nodded. Of course he did. "Don't forget your clothes," she reminded him as he moved to the door.

Dr. Cullen nodded. "Right," he replied, picking them up. "Well, goodbye."

Esme sighed. "Goodbye, Dr. Cullen."

"Goodbye, funny doctor!" Camille added.

"I'm going to make my doll walk, like you made Esme walk!" Linda added.

And then he disappeared out the door. Esme wished her legs were a little stronger, so she could help him get his horses ready. He'd helped her _so_ much; she'd like to help him. But although Esme had proved she _was_ capable of walking, she also knew it took a lot of strength to walk across the front room. There was _no way_ she could walk all the way to the barn. So Dr. Cullen disappeared from their house, and from her life.

**Thank you so much for the reviews. Please keep them coming, although I'd like to say they don't all have to be so positive. I love positive reviews, of course. But criticism will only allow me to improve the story and/or explain my decisions better. So review please, whether it's positive or negative.**

**Here's some responses:**

**Emma: Thank you. Hope you enjoy the rest of it.**

**Ellie: Glad you like the story so much. I don't want to give away spoilers, so I'm not going to say what's will happen with Carlisle and Esme in this story. But I will tell you this. I believe Carlisle and Esme belong together in the end in _every _situation, circumstance, or universe (human or vampire).**

**I may be doing some edits on this chapter and chapter two in the next couple of weeks. Don't worry, I won't be changing the entire chapters. I just want the historical stuff to be as accurate as possible, and so I'm working on getting more information about medicine at that time. You can read the edited versions or not.**


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